


all natasha's fault

by novoaa1



Series: natasha tries not to do "feelings" (the operative word here being 'tries') [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Oral Sex, They bang, and um, cause uhhh, confused wanda maximoff, like a lot, natasha sucks at feelings, thats kinda it, they don't talk about feelings, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 04:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19099714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Natasha still sucks at feelings, Wanda's still confused, aaaand that's about it.





	all natasha's fault

**Author's Note:**

> just a short thing to add to the series... wrote it in one go so idk if it's terrible haha i'm going to come back and edit it later probably
> 
> hope you like:)

By all accounts, Wanda had felt she was beginning to get a sort of handle on her feelings towards Natasha—because fine, maybe every knowing smirk the older woman sent her way would cause her thighs to clench and her panties to almost instantaneously grow pathetically damp, and maybe she’d spent each of the past few nights rubbing herself furiously to a blinding climax in her sheets at the mere thought of Natasha and those intense green eyes and those pouty red lips, but it’d been a week since what Wanda had begun to refer to as the ‘kitchen incident’ in her head, and for the most part, she’d managed to keep her ever-growing attraction towards the redheaded assassin in check.

 

She should have known it wouldn’t last. 

 

Because there they were, in the cramped storage area at the back of the Quinjet on their way back from a mission while the rest of the team slept soundly in their seats, and before Wanda could ask what the _hell_ was happening, Natasha was sinking deftly to her knees before Wanda in that obscenely form-fitting black quote-on-quote “combat suit,” a knowing smirk on full red lips, and it suddenly seemed like Wanda couldn’t possibly divest herself of the skin-tight leather pants she wore fast enough to allow Natasha access to her desire, like, _yesterday_.

 

Once her lower half was sufficiently bare, Wanda didn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about the sheer abundance of wetness accumulated between her thighs, because Natasha was on her knees and placing soft teasing kisses on the tops of her thighs, and her entire body was trembling as she whined helplessly because she needed so badly for Natasha to just _fuck_ her already, dammit. 

 

She choked on her own whimpers when Natasha _finally_ (and without warning) dragged her warm tongue through slippery folds, lingering deliciously at her clit as Wanda writhed and moaned above her, trying desperately to keep her cries from waking the others just feet away from the two of them. 

 

Then Natasha was using her hands to oh-so-slowly spread those glistening delicate folds and Wanda thought she might die from pleasure, everything laid bare to the torturously gradual glide of her purposeful tongue, the single digit tracing teasing circles around her slit— _God_ , it was like heaven, her moans growing louder and more high-pitched with every touch, every swipe of that sinful tongue, every pleasurable sensation driving her steadily towards a maddening peak of euphoria, of utter _bliss_. 

 

She had to clap a trembling hand over her mouth when two fingers slid swiftly into her entrance, when the circles around her clit grew tighter, when Natasha hummed against that hypersensitive bundle of nerves and she could see stars in her vision as the sensations grew so intense, _too_ intense—and then she was falling, falling over the edge of ecstasy, sinking into the best kind of delirium as her vision whited out from pleasure, barely hearing the strangled mewl escaping her throat with every wave of heavenly rapture that threatened to tower her from the heights of divinity.

 

And still, Natasha kept going, her tongue unrelenting as Wanda’s burning legs shook beneath her, fingers fucking in and out of her at a dizzying pace, lewd wet sounds filling the small area and Wanda couldn’t, she _couldn’t_ she was _sure_ she couldn’t and—

 

And yet, she did—her second climax ripped through her in an upsurge of euphoric fervor, tumbling her easily like a house of playing cards, something inexplicable cresting within her as tidal waves of pleasure hit her one after another leaving no room for reprieve; with no other choice, she surrendered to it, to the take and take and _take_ of every overwhelming spark that ripped every moan and cry and _scream_ from her until she was utterly spent, a thin sheen of sweat covering her shuddering body, weak mewls escaping her as Natasha lapped carefully at her hypersensitive clit before gradually slowing to a blessed halt, Wanda’s depleted form like putty in her hands. 

 

And after that? 

 

Nothing—they went back to the Tower, sparred together every day at 3pm, and Natasha never seemed bothered by the fact that they didn’t speak of what had happened in Wanda’s quarters, in the kitchen, in the _Quinjet_.

 

And slowly, through it all, Wanda could feel herself reaching a breaking point—could feel something chipping away inside her with every unbothered smile, with every exchange of small talk, with every moment they kept up the ridiculous pretense that Wanda didn’t know how Natasha’s pert pillowy lips felt between her thighs, how her clever tongue felt sliding deftly through her folds, how it felt to ride out an overpowering orgasm clenching desperately around Natasha’s skilled fingers as she whispered filthy things in Wanda’s ear that made her vision go white with untapped pleasure. 

 

Sooner or later, she was going to snap—she could _feel_ it. 

 

And it was all Natasha’s fault. 

 

— —

**Author's Note:**

> as always, would love to know your thoughts!
> 
> (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/))


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